Now come such more or less theological works as "Pseudo-Martyr," "Ignatius His Conclave," and "Biathanatos": the first (1610) is addressed to the King, who finally induced Donne to take holy orders. "Divine" poems he also wrote, but he was not anxious to be a professional divine. Donne's conceits were daring to the border of profanity. A visit to Paris with his patron, Sir Robert Drury, while Mrs. Donne was about to become a mother, was marked by a telepathic experience--Donne saw his wife, then in England, with a dead baby in her arms. Walton says that the day of the vision was that of the child's birth and death, but the dates do not bear out the statement. Walton's remark that Drury sent an express messenger to England, to inquire about Mrs. Donne, is certainly untrue. In honour of a daughter of Drury who died young, Donne had written two extraordinary poems: "The First Anniversary" of the decease was published in 1611, "The Second Anniversary" was written in 1612. There seemed reason to fear that Donne would celebrate Miss Drury, whom he had never seen, once a year, while his life endured. The poem as a whole is "An Anatomy, of the World, wherein, by occasion of the death of Mistress Elizabeth Drury, the frailty and decay of this whole world is represented". Donne indulges in an exaggeration of hyperbole equalled only by the ancient Irish bards who sang the feats of Cuchulainn. For example, when Elizabeth joined the Saints This world in that great earthquake languished, For in a common bath of tears it bled, an allusion to Seneca bleeding to death in a bath full of hot water. This manner of hyperbole flourished after Donne's time, infecting Crashaw and others, For there's a kind of world remaining still, as Donne admits. Poetry on the deplorable brevity of life and the instability of things may be excellent, and that instability is the theme of Donne, but Mistress Drury is harped upon too much, and Donne was taking this paragon on trust:-- she whose rich eyes and breast Gilt the West Indies and perfumed the East. It is impossible to understand how a poet, now of the mature age of thirty-nine, could write in this fashion if he had any humour. "The Second Anniversary" dwelt on the incommodities of the soul in this life, and her exaltation in the next. Donne says that the world still has a semblance of life, as when the eyes and tongue of a decapitated man twinkle and roll, while He grasps his hands and he pulls up his feet. So struggles this dead world, without Elizabeth, whom Donne never saw! There are good lines such as Her pure and eloquent blood Spoke in her cheeks, and the satiric remarks on A spongy slack divine, who Drinks and sucks in th' instructions of great men.